


a little less conversation

by feeltripping



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/F, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Strap-Ons, Very Light Edging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltripping/pseuds/feeltripping
Summary: Fill for request: strap on, bottom Lexa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed

“Not now,” Lexa murmurs, bent over her toes with the little pot of nail polish. “You’ll spill it.”

Clarke pouts. She leans forward again, against the faint curve of Lexa’s back, and nips at the back of her neck. “Baby,” she whines, exaggerated, and Lexa huffs out an amused breath, smiling.

“You’ll live to wait a minute.” Clarke makes an overdramatic noise and Lexa’s smile widens. “Go get ready,” she says, blowing a stream of air across her freshly painted toes. “They’ll be dry in just a moment.”

Clarke bites the back of her neck, hard. Lexa stills, her breath caught, and Clarke growls against the top of her spine, dragging her teeth roughly to feel Lexa shiver. “See you soon.”

++

When Clarke emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of pleasant steam, all warm and damp and still dripping from the ends of her hair, Lexa is sprawled out on the bed, one arm above her head. She’s naked, and a book is propped on her hip, long fingers cradling the pages and the spine. She’s not posing, not artfully draped to make Clarke respond, but Clarke’s drawn up short anyway. Lexa’s soft breathing, the tumble of her hair on the pillow and her thighs gently parted, eyes flickering over the words.

She looks up and smiles, soft and easy and familiar. “Clarke.” She sets the book aside and reaches out. Clarke steps to her, lets her towel drop and Lexa’s eyes widen. She always looks at Clarke like it’s the first time, and their hands slide together like they’ve never been apart. She tugs playfully at the strap on around Clarke’s hips. “Tease, hiding this under the towel.”

Clarke straddles her, then dips down for a kiss, starting easy and ramping up fast and filthy. She pulls away, slightly, then dips to lick across Lexa’s mouth. “You’re the tease, making me wait.” Lexa hums, straining up, and Clarke pins her down with a hand on her chest. “Gonna make you pay, just a little bit.”

“Mm.” Lexa relaxes back into the bed, lifting her head up when Clarke tugs gently at the pillow.

“Want you laid out flat,” Clarke murmurs. She lays her hand on Lexa’s throat, very gently, and tightens, just the littlest bit. When Lexa moans, soft and low, she feels it vibrate into her palm. Clarke skims her fingers across Lexa’s shoulders, down the insides of her arms, letting her nails trail shivers. She nudges them out straight and makes a quiet questioning noise, undoing the harness around her hips and laying it aside.

“Yeah,” Lexa says, breath quickening, “yeah.” Clarke slides up her chest, knees on either side of Lexa’s head, and lets her weight settle down, fluttering her eyes shut at the first touch of Lexa’s lips, the dart of her tongue, the eager hungry sound punched from her chest. Clarke rocks, slow, grinds down hard, hands braced.

“Fuck,” she mutters, sweat breaking out on her hairline. She groans, bending over, hips moving erratic and hard. “C’mon Lex–” Lexa sucks on her clit and Clarke babbles nonsense before she finds her words again. “A little more,” she pants. Lexa presses into her, sloppy wet noises, sucking and obscene, Clarke’s thighs squeezed against her ears.

++

“Oh,” Clarke sighs, aftershocks making her twitch. Lexa is still slipping her tongue through Clarke’s folds, kitten licks. Clarke wiggles back, flops down on top of her and kisses Lexa’s swollen lips, licks her own wetness off Lexa’s chin, her cheeks. She massages Lexa’s forearms where her shins bit into them. “Okay?”

“Mm,” Lexa mumbles, eyes half-shut. She smiles when Clarke kisses just over her heart. Her fingers slide gently around Clarke’s elbow, and her free hand plays with a strap of the harness, tugging it closer. She looks at Clarke through her lashes and Clarke smiles. Lexa’s hands slide over hers, helping her fasten it tight and snug. Clarke swipes two fingers through Lexa’s center, burning and dripping, then slides them through Lexa’s lips, against her tongue. Lexa suckles, cheeks hollowed and tongue swirling.

“You’re so wet,” Clarke murmurs. Lexa moans around her fingers, muffled, then gags when Clarke rubs hard at the back of her tongue. Clarke kisses her throat to feel it work beneath her lips. She pillows her head between Lexa’s breasts to hear her heartbeat thunder and her soft choking noises when Clarke adds another finger, thrusting until she gags and moans. She waits until Lexa’s thighs squeeze together, her hips rising up in desperate twitches. She sits up and looks at Lexa, eyes teary and hazy, the pupil blown; her mouth stretched pretty around Clarke’s fingers. “Ready baby?”

Lexa blinks at her, and Clarke waits until she nods before slipping her fingers out of Lexa’s mouth, stringing spit and drool. She wipes them off on Lexa’s cheek. “Clarke,” Lexa mumbles, drifty and fumbly.

“Big breath,” Clarke says, and kisses her right when she pushes in to taste the air punched from Lexa’s chest, taste her sharp whine. Lexa body gives under her, sweet and tight, and Lexa writhes when she pulls out and then drives home and deep with a slap of skin on skin. “So good,” Clarke murmurs, to ease the little furrow between Lexa’s eyebrows. “My good girl.”

Lexa melts under her, relaxing, and Clarke grinds her hips in circles, hands braced in the sheets. “Please,” Lexa says, after almost ten minutes, and they kiss again, messy and clumsy while Clarke leans back and finds the right position to piston the strap on in and out, rough and fast and an angle to make Lexa cry out weakly on every thrust. Rolling her body and flexing her thighs and fucking Lexa up the bed, her body jolting and the mattress creaking, the headboard clattering against the wall.

Clarke pulls away from where their foreheads had been leaned together and murmurs wordless reassurance when Lexa whines. “You’re gonna like this,” she promises. She cups her hands on Lexa’s chest, feeling her nipples against her palms, and squeezes a few times, loving the weight and the warmth and the way Lexa’s mouth falls open and slack. She curls her fingers around Lexa’s throat again and braces her other hand on her belly, just below the swell of it and the flat plane of Lexa’s hips. When she leans her weight down Lexa’s eyes fly open and her body jerks.

“Clarke,” she rasps, wide eyed. She shudders, a whole body quiver.

“You like that?” Clarke leans harder, pressing down. Lexa moans, loud and ragged. “Answer.”

“Yes,” Lexa gasps. Her voice breaks in the middle when Clarke thrusts into her, hard, picking up the pace again.

“Good.” Clarke fucks her, hard and quick and they’re dripping sweat, the both of them. She drops both hands to Lexa’s stomach and presses down and Lexa writhes under her.

“I’m gonna,” she mutters, lip drawn between her teeth and eyes rolled back, “Clarke, I’m gonna–”

“Don’t.” Lexa moans again, her ankles locking in the small of Clarke’s back. Clarke slides a finger alongside the silicone, feeling Lexa clench and flutter and gush. “You can wait a minute,” she teases, and pulls out. Lexa protests, grumbling, and blinks, confused, when Clarke flops over onto her back on the bed, panting. Clarke wiggles her legs, shaking the pins and needles out, and smirks when Lexa huffs, eyes narrowed. She reaches out and touches Lexa’s lips, tracing the bow of them, skating up to cradle her jaw and down her throat. She rests her fingertips in the lovebites just starting to bruise and presses gently. “What do good girls do,” she murmurs, low and soft enough that it’s an offer instead of an order.

Lexa blinks. She sucks on her own lip for a moment. Then she rolls over, levers herself to her hands and knees and crawls over to lie across Clarke’s thighs, mouthing absently up them and across her hip. She pillows her head and sighs, breathing quietly for a minute. Clarke pets her hair, scritching gently at her scalp, rubbing behind her ear, and Lexa tilts her head into Clarke’s fingers. “Ask me again,” Lexa says.

Clarke tips her fingers under Lexa’s chin, tilting her head up so their eyes can lock. “What do good girls do,” she says again, and Lexa nips at her thumb, playful and eyes smiling.

“Lick it clean,” she says, low, and Clarke feels her eyes shut, her body thrum. She settles more comfortably back against the bed and Lexa takes the toy into her mouth, sucking quietly. Clarke pets her hair and murmurs and every so often jogs her hips up, pinches Lexa’s nose shut before releasing and hearing her suck in lungfuls of air.

“Okay,” Clarke says, soft, some time later. “Good girl.” Lexa crawls up her body for a kiss, slow and easy and smiling lips. “Good girl,” Clarke repeats. “How do you want your reward?”

Lexa slides off her, one little last darting kiss, and lies flat on her stomach. Clarke lays on top of her and just enjoys it for a minute, Lexa’s slender frame, her sweat slick skin, how her legs part obediently when Clark slides a possessive hand down her spine. Soft kiss to the back of Lexa’s throat and she pushes back in without any resistance at all. Lexa sighs, pleasured and hummingly satisfied and Clarke fucks her real slow, the room silent except for their breathing and the wet noises of the toy. Lexa tenses under her, clenching up, and Clarke hums against the back of her neck. “Clarke,” Lexa rasps.

“You can come,” Clarke says, and fucks her all the way through it, until Lexa’s flinching slightly, oversensitive but still keeping her legs spread and her muscles pliant and her hips tilted up for Clarke.

++

“No,” Lexa says, wriggling away and burrowing under the sheet. 

Clarke plucks at her, exasperated. “Lexa. Get up.”

“I’m asleep.”

Clarke flops on her, elbows first, and Lexa yelps before grumbling. “You’re gross. We gotta clean up.”

Lexa peeks at her from the pillow, one hand skimming lightly over Clarke’s back. “I could wake up tomorrow.”

“Well I certainly hope you wake up tomor–”

“Still sticky from you.” Clarke’s mouth snaps shut. She swallows and blinks rapidly. Lexa smiles. “Fucked out and wet.”

“Clean up,” Clarke says, almost too quick, “overrated. Let’s try it your way.” Lexa pulls her in for a kiss, tired and sated and barely there tongue, and they curl up together. Clarke slides her fingers into Lexa, just a little probing touch, and Lexa flutters weakly around her. She makes a questioning noise. “Ssh,” Clarke murmurs, “just checking. Go to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @ feeltripping


End file.
